Another Time, Another Love Story
by Skye Evans
Summary: Bella stumbles across a diary as she's cleaning out her and Edward's cottage. It's dated 1918 and is by a girl named Charlotte Clarke, Edward's first love.
1. August 31, 1918

**Author's note: This isn't one of my better fanfics but I really enjoyed writing it. It's supposed to be the diary of Edward's first love, Charlotte Clarke. **

_August 31, 1918_

_ Tonight, my parents and I attended a party at the Hadleys'. Edward was there as usual I had hoped he would be, and I spent most most of my time with him. As always, he made me laugh too hard and smile too often, making me seem most unladylike. But I could not help it. He is so handsome, and I really do love him dearly._

_ "Edward, stop," I had told him as he joked._

_He had looked up at me, his green eyes shining, his mouth forming that crooked smile that I loved. "Charlotte," he breathed my name, and my heart had melted in my chest. "You're so beautiful when you laugh; , though, how could I ever stop?"_

_ I remember laughing even harder at this statement. He is impossible at times. We were at a party, , all the ladies in their formal gowns, the men in their suits, and I knew that they'd all be talking about Edward and I's courtship. I was leaning against a refreshment table, and Edward was teasing me. "My dear," I told him, smiling though my voice was falsely stern." you must stop making such foolish comments. You are such a silly little boy, I swear" I returned, taunting him back._

_ "Would a silly little boy do this?" he leaned in and kissed the hollow of my throat, causing chills to run up and down my spine. The spot where he kissed me still tingles from his touch, even hours later. _

_ "Edward," I scolded him, "please don't. People might get the wrong impression."_

_ "Love, what would be the wrong impression? That I might love you and wish you to be mine?" He was so irresistible when he said this that my heart fluttered wildly. But, as I knew a lady should, I didn't refused to let any emotion show._

_ "No, they'll think that I'm a woman of ill repute. You don't want me to get a reputation now, do you, Master Masen?" He chuckled at my use of his formal title. _

_ "No, I should not, Miss Clarke. For if you did, then my parents would mostly likely object to my marrying you," he smiled mischievously as he raised a glass of champagne to his lips._

_ "And why would you want to marry me? Hmm, Edward Anthony Masen?"_

_ "Because Charlotte Ruth Clarke, I find you to be beautiful and witty and intelligent and kind. And…" he put down his glass and grabbed my hand, "because I love you." He kissed my hand then, and it took all my restraint not to throw my arms around his neck and kiss him passionately as he did so. I looked over and saw my parents nod in approval at my flirting with Edward._

_ Edward's family is well-off with money, as you know. My family is close behind when it comes to wealth, but my parents still wish to make a good match for me in order to add to our family fortune. To them, Edward is a perfect match for his money; to me, Edward is perfect because I love him more than I could ever have imagined I would. I noticed Edward's mother, Mrs. Elisabeth Masen, had walked over to my mother, and the women began to gossiped most of the night, glancing in our direction the whole time._

_ Do you remember when I wrote of how Edward first started courting me? I hadn't been able to imagine why he would choose me. He was so charming, and I fell fast for him. After a few weeks, I could not see my future without him in it. Now , he likes to talk of our marriage, and it quite pleases me,e and my parents as well. _

_ After the party tonight, Mama and Papa and I ventured through the streets, enjoying the sweet summer air. You know how father is about walking. He claims it's good for the soul as well as for the body and refuses to let us get a carriage in summer-though God knows we could afford it! When we returned home, we found the nanny asleep on the sofa in the living room. How dare she! Especially with Mildred so sick. _

_ I am the second eldest of five children. My older brother William is twenty-two and already married, to a lovely woman named Dorothy. They have a child of their own on the way, and I am quite ecstatic to be an auntexcited. After me, I have my brother George. He's fifteen and an absolute trouble maker. The next child is my sister, Mildred. She is thirteen and had caught a terrible cold a week ago. She is still sick in bed from it, and our nanny had been given strict instructions to watch over her all night. After Mildred is Henry, the youngest at only nine years old. We all dote on him, and he is positively spoiled because of it._

_ I had followed my mother upstairs to the bedroom I share with Mildred. Mama kissed Mildred's sick forehead and found her to have such a high temperature. ! She told me to fetch Ffather. I did as I was instructed told, and Papa called the physician, who came despite the late hour. _

_ The physician did not tell us good news about Mildred. He told us she is suffering from the Spanish Influenza and most likely has mere hours left to live, at best. When he told us this, I fled from the room and down the hall to William's,s now unused, bedroom. I slipped out of my party clothes and into my nightgown, my tears still running swiftly down my cheeks without hiatus. _

_ I am determined to be near Millie in her last hours, which is why I'm writing this by candlelightnow. It gives me something to do besides simply stare at her and wait for her to pass. _

_ Millie looks so young and vulnerable, lying on her bed, her face pale and sickly. Only a week ago, people confused her for the elder Clarke sister when we were out together. But they would not do that now. Mildred looks so naïve and childish, so small in that large bed she had begged my parents for. She had so much to look forward to. ; but now,Now she'lld never get the chance to go to parties like I did tonight or be courted by handsome men like Edward. _

_ I guess I must get to bed now, but I shall write again in the morning to tell you how Millie is fairing. report on how Millie is fairing. _


	2. September 13 thru 18, 1918

_September 13, 1918_

_Mildred died in the early morning of September 1, 1918. I wept for days for her, and it's only now after a fortnight that I'm able to compose myself long enough to write. I feel as though this grief that resides within me now will never go away._

_But sheMillie has only been the first of many. The nanny, my brothers Henry and George, my brother's pregnant wife Dorothy, my mother, and Mr. Masen have all come down with the Spanish Influenza since Millie's death. George has gained his health back, and the physician says my mother and Mr. Masen should be okay as well. But for the others the prognosis isn't quite so happy. _

_Dorothy died three days ago, after giving birth to James, her and my brother's son. William is inconsolable at the loss of his wife. He cannot imagine how he will raise James alone. Henry died the day after Dorothy. He had always been a sickly child, and the influenza was too much for his poor little body. I will miss him miss them all so, so much. _

_September 15, 1918_

_ My mother's health is fading, despite what the doctor told us. She is giving up the will to live and is succumbing to hallucinations of sorts. Mr. Masen is growing worse as well. He lies in bed all day, hanging on to what little life is still in his body. Edward brings me daily reports of his family and comes to see how my family is. _

_September 18, 1918_

_ I have fallen ill as well, now. I woke up in the middle of the night, with a horrid fever and a cough. All of my energy I had once had has been drained from me and all I can do is laiey in bed. I don't plan on relinquishing my life to this dreadful disease, but I wonder how long I can fight before my body betrays me and I slip away into is quite boring and I wish that I would just get better soon. _


	3. September 20, 1918

_September 20, 1918_

_ My mother died this morning. I don't know how I can possibly go on without her. My mother was loving and kind, her voice soft and her hands gentle. She had the loveliest voice, so strong and clear, and I had always loved to hear her sing sweet lullabies. Now that she's gone, I can feel the fight in me lessening, the influenza taking over. But I want to fight for her, to let her know she raised a strong daughter that will carry on her legacy. _

_ The only good thing that has come out of this whole Spanish influenza ordealepidemic is the fact that Edward and I have grown infinitely closer. He comes to see me every day. Today, when he came to see me, I needed him more than ever. He brought in a bouquet of purple irises, my favorite flower. He kissed my burning forehead and sat down beside my bed, his hand wrapped around mine._

_ All I could think as he sat there talking to me was Thank God he was still alive and well and still wanted meby my side. I don't know without a doubt I will not be able to survive if anything happens to him. how I will be able to survive if anything happens to him. "Charlotte, darling," he had whispered into my ear as he stroked my sickly hand. "You must get better. Without you, there is no reason for me to go on."_

_ "Edward, stop being dramatic," I told him as I always did when he said such preposterous things._

_ "Dear Charlotte, I only tell you what I feel. Is it dramatic if it's true?" He asked, his voice sweet and lovely, adoration pouring from his grass-green eyes._

_ "Oh, I don't know. Let's stop arguing. Will you recite a poem to me?" I was weary and in no mood for the playful bickering bantering I had once lived for. Instead, I wanted him to recite one of the poems we both loved and knew by heart._

"'_Escape me? Never- beloved, While I am I and you are you, So long as the world contains us both, Me the loving and you the loth, While the one eludes, must the other pursue,'" he whispered the beautiful words of Robert Browning's __Life in Love. _

_I began my favorite poem of Robert Browning's wife, "'How do I love thee? Let me count the ways. I love thee to the depth and breadth and height My soul can reach when feeling out of sight For the ends of Being and ideal Grace. I love thee to the level of everyday's Most quiet need, by sun and candlelight.'"_

"_Bravo," Edward smiled. "Would you like to hear another one, mademoiselle?"_

"_Yes, please," I muttered, as I closed my eyes._

"'_The tide rises, the tide falls, The twilight darkens, the curlew calls; Along the sea-sands damp and brown The traveler hastens toward the town, And the tide rises, the tide falls,'" His voice was my lullaby and as he recited the beautiful words of Longfellow, I began to fall asleep. "'Darkness settles on roofs and walls, But the sea, the sea in the darkness calls; The little waves, with their soft white hands, Efface the footprints in the sands, And the tide rises, the tide falls…'" _

_I was near sleep when he kissed my hand and left me. I fell asleep and dreamted pleasant dreams of the future I look ed forward to with my Edward. _

**Disclaimer: The poems mentioned above are **_**Life in Love **_**by Robert Browning, **_**How Do I Love Thee?**_** By Elizabeth Barrett Browning, and **_**The Tide Rises, The Tide Falls**_** by Henry Wadsworth Longfellow. I don't own them or any of the characters/places mentioned from Stephenie Meyer's **_**Twilight**_**. **


	4. September 29, 1918

_September 29, 1918_

_ Like an animal can feel when a storm is coming, I can feel that I don't have much time left. I don't feel as though I have much time left here. This may very well be my last entry. Edward came to see me again today and is still here, as I write this. _

_ While onceOnce, I had looked forward to the future I was so sure I had with him., Nnow, I know better. I am not strong enough to fight this, to survive the influenza. This Spanish InfluenzaIt will be the death of me. and my dearBut my Edward is meant for bigger things besides me. I pray that if he ever finds another girl to love, that she loves him far better than I ever could have._

_ He keeps telling me I'm going to be fine, that I'll beat this awful disease, m going to be one of the lucky ones, but I know I'm notI'm not going to. I can feel that feel so ill and feel as though Ddeath is upon me. Even the physician does no't think I'll survive past this night. I'm going to cherish the time I have left with my love and hope that he doesn't get this mess. _

_ My father is still healthy and has not caught the influenza, but his grief is getting the best of him. I can only hope he knows that I love him and that he has been the best father anyone could ever havebefore I go. And Edward, my dear dear Edward, always remember that I love you. As you go on through your life, always remember the last few months we've been together. That is truly my only dying wish. _

_ I can't decide whether or not I should be to be scared about of dying. Surely, it can't be too bad. I'll soon be reunited with my mother, Millie, Henry, Dorothy, and our nanny. As well as countless others that have died before me and will die after me. I'll be with the heavenly Ffather as well, and that's all I feel I can ask for. _

_ I must retire now, for I'm growing weak and feel heavily fatigued. _

_ -Charlotte Ruth Clarke, aged sixteen years and eight months_


	5. Epilogue: The Present

Bella closed the worn, leather-bound journal and shut her eyes, breathing slowly. Edward walked into their bedroom in the cottage and, and Bella looked up at him, trying to picture him as he must have been a hundred years ago when, as he courted Charlotte Clarke.

"Why didn't you tell me?" she asked quietly. He came and sat down beside her. He never would've thought she'd find the diary of his love from so many years ago.a lifetime ago.

"I never felt the need too. I hardly remember her or anything from my human years. This-" he took the diary from his wife's hands." Is the only proof I have that she ever even existed."

"What happened? After the last journal entry, I mean?" Bella was curious about her. She wasn't jealous of her or angry at Edward; she just wanted to know more about the love affair her husband had had before she'd ever even existed.

"She died that night. I was with her. Her father was such a kind man, and he was simply overwrought with sorrow. My mother fell ill the next day, and I the day after. My father and mother died only days after that, and well, you know the rest, right?" he smiled sadly at her.

Bella nodded. "I never would've guess that there was ever another. But I'm glad I know. I would actually like to know more about her."

Edward shook his head at the ever- surprising love of his life. "Well, she loved poetry…" he began, and memories flooded back to him of the first girl he'd ever loved. "I can only hope I lived up to her expectations."

Bella smiled and kissed him, "You did, love. You did."


End file.
